Fallen Kingdom

Christine Gerard was losing her temper.

"Mother I don't understand. Father knows exactly who that bastard is. Why is he letting him into our fold?"

The young noblewoman loomed over the pale shadow that had once been her mother. She could see the strong woman of her childhood as a glimmer in the pale blue eyes staring back at her. That was all Matilda Gerard had left - a pair of resolute eyes trapped in a withered body, looking upon the world with ever increasing misery.

"Christine, that language is not ladylike. Besides, your father is following his duty. He must welcome Prince Henry."

Christine could see that her mother felt as she did. She could trace the lines of horror and disgust on her face. But Matilda Gerard, like Christine's father Bartholomew, were too set in their royal ways to admit their fear, so they let the inevitable doom come upon them.

There were times where Christine despised the royal ways. She had thought of a dozen different systems that would work better. In her readings, she had encountered many different possibilities for how the world could look. In Athens there had been a novel system known as democracy that allowed the citizens to collectively decide matters. The Romans, meanwhile, elected representatives - that is until Caesar and his ilk had their way. Even the heathen Moslems had their Caliphates. Christine supposed any system was better than a backwater nightmare that would allow someone like the Black Prince to come to power.

Unfortunately, there was no escape. The Black Prince was already here. It was now that Christine broke down, her trademark resolve crumbling under the weight of this terrible reality.

"Please don't let him take me, Mum," she whimpered, kneeling at her mother's bedside.

Christine's mother stared at her with tears in her eyes, but she said nothing. There was nothing left for her to give her daughter. Beyond the castle walls, darkness rolled in upon the land.

***

Christine stood next to her younger brother Erik in the throne room, anxiously awaiting the coming of Prince Henry's retinue. Erik wore a dopey smile, unbothered by what was coming. Christine supposed this made sense. What did Erik have to worry about? It wasn't like the Black Prince would be bedding her younger brother. This was a terror Christine must face alone.

Of course, it was possible that the Black Prince would not find Christine appealing. Perhaps this visit would merely be political. Christine could reconcile her family losing power. That was abstract game she would never get to play - she didn't have a dog in that fight.

But who was she kidding? Christine was still a chaste young woman, but she had seen the way the guards stared at her when they thought she wasn't paying attention. She knew well enough that men desired her. What was worse, her father had her into this ridiculous dress.

It was a poofy mess of pink and blue silk, cut low at the chest, revealing the swells of Christine's womanhood to the entire world. Christine knew her father did not want her to be Prince Henry's bride, so why was he doing everything in his power to show her off?

Christine knew the answer: it was the ways of nobility. This was one of her father's duties, just as fighting wars and settling trade disputes were.

The doors to the hall flew open and a blast of trumpet music filled the air. To Christine, it sounded like a war cry. She supposed it was - of a sort. In marched a throng of people, led by the Black Prince himself.

Christine expected an ugly, twisted creature - that would have fit the man's reputation for lechery and cruelty. However, the real Black Prince was the furthest thing from Christine's imagined monster. He was a tall, well-built man with a mane of black hair and piercing gray eyes. His features were cold and unforgiving, but Christine could not deny they were handsome. As the Black Prince strolled into the hall, his eyes fell on Christine and lowered to her chest, causing her cheeks to burn with shame and fear.

Accompanying the Black Prince was a very strange woman. She appeared to be about the age of Christine's mother and wore a long, flowing robe that hid the curves of her body. She was pretty but had a feral wildness to her look that struck Christine with a pang of fear. Adorning the woman's face were tattoos etched in black ink. Christine had never seen anything quite like these, and they fascinated her despite her overwhelming fear in the moment. The woman's hair was bright red, cascading down her back like billowing flames and her eyes were a green so bright they seemed to glow in the dim light of the hall.

As the woman approached, her eyes landed on Christine. Hers did not fall upon Christine's chest like those of the Black Prince. Instead, they seemed to drill into the young noblewoman's soul for some arcane purpose. The longer Christine stared into those burning emerald eyes, the sleepier she felt. Eventually, she had to look away just to keep her balance.

"Who is the lady?" Erik whispered.

"What? How am I supposed to know?" Christine asked.

Erik shrugged.

"You're the smart one in the family. Father lets you read all those books."

"You could read them too, if you wanted to."

Erik stepped away from Christine in overemphasized disgust as if she had the plague.

"Ew! I'd much rather keep up with my sword play, thank you very much."

Christine gave her brother a sad smile. Given his diminutive size and weak constitution, it was unlikely that Erik would ever grow into the great warrior he dreamed of being. That didn't mean he couldn't cherish the dreams. Sometimes, dreams were all anyone ever had.

"Baron Gerard, it is an honor to be welcomed into your lands. May our visit be a pleasant one," the Black Prince said in a dark, cool voice.

"Er, yes Prince Henry. May you find yourself as comfortable in our castle as you would at home," Bartholomew answered.

The Black Prince smiled.

"Yes, well it likely will be my home very soon. One of them, at least."

Christine shot the Black Prince a look of pure disgust. How could he come into her father's castle and say something so disrespectful? Christine half expected her father to drive Prince Henry away just for that remark. That was what should have happened.

Instead, Bartholomew Gerard gritted his teeth, a smile, and bowed to the prince. Hopelessness settled in Christine's bones. There was nothing the Black Prince could not take.

***

It was late evening in Castle Gerard. The newcomers had just begun to settle into the usual fabric of the castle. Baron Gerard was stuck in his diplomatic chamber with Prince Henry and two of his own advisors. They had been going back and forth for hours, struggling to come to an agreement about land partitioning. Bartholomew felt exhausted, but Prince Henry had not slowed down one bit. He seemed to revel in the long hours of political discussion. If this meeting was any indication, the next week was shaping up to be a real living hell.

Further off in the castle, a dark figure flitted through the hallways, easily avoiding the watchful eyes of the castle guards. She was a woman sent on a mission - one that proved to be very intriguing.

Azira reached Lady Matilda's quarters close to midnight. She had heard enough about the noblewoman's poor condition to know that she would likely be fast asleep. That would make the coming task easier, but also less fun.

The sorceress tried the door and found it locked. A mere mortal would have been to turn away. Azira was no mere mortal.

The sorceress hissed an incantation. In the next moment, her body evaporated into living shadows that slipped through the keyhole of Lady Matilda's door. The shadows swirled through the dark air, reforming at Matilda's bedside. The woman looked to be asleep, but something did not feel quite right.

"I know you're there," the noblewoman said with her eyes still closed.

Azira grinned, revealing a pair of elegant fangs. Secretly, she had hoped for this. It was so much more fun to have the noblewoman awake.

"You've got me," the sorceress said. "Not that it will help you."

"I can still scream," Matilda answered.

"I'll be gone in an instant if you do, off to find your daughter instead."

Matilda's eyes shot open, full of fear and motherly rage.

"What do you want?"

"I've been tasked with giving you and your daughter a gift - one that will help you accept your coming fate a little easier."

Azira held up a glass vial filled with black liquid. The sorceress could sense the dark aura leeching out through the glass. Even for a soul as wicked as her, this stuff was potent and dangerous.

"What is that?"

The look in the noblewoman's eyes was priceless - full of soft terror. Azira relished moments like this when she held power over another in the palm of her hand.

"If I tell you what it is, it'll just make this more difficult."

Fear turned to rage in Matilda Gerard's cold blue eyes. There was the proud woman Azira had heard tales of. She was a welcome sight after so many minutes with this shriveled, sickly husk. Matilda's pride was something Azira could work with.

"Get out," Matilda said. "If you don't get out, I'll call the guards. I'll have you hung before dawn."

Azira waggled her finger in Matilda Gerard's face.

"Remember what I said! If you scream, I'll find your daughter instead. Imagine her screams as I pour this wicked stuff onto that sweet, heaving bosom of hers."

Matilda Gerard's cold blue eyes cut into Azira like daggers, but the sorceress could see that she had gotten her message across.

"You and your bastard prince don't care who you hurt."

"Who said anything about hurting anyone?" Azira asked. "If anything, I want to help you - and your dear daughter."

Azira tried to deliver a sweet smile with her words but could feel how rotten and fake it was. The sorceress knew her limitations and goodness was one of them. Still, she meant her words. The fluid in the vial would help the withered noblewoman in a sense.

The same was true of her words about dear Christine. The girl would be wasted as a broodmare for Henry.

"If you really wanted to help, you would leave this place and refuse Henry your services," Matilda said. "Please, I beg of you."

The entitlement of these nobles was always flabbergasting to the sorceress. They always expected things handed to them without a price. What an enfeebling way to live.

"That just would not be interesting," Azira answered. "Here are my terms. Take them or leave them. If you drink this stuff of your own free will - all of it, I'll not only leave your daughter unscathed, I'll do my best to protect her from Henry's advances."

Matilda looked confused. Her mind seemed to flash back and forth between rage and despair, but Azira could see the small, weak gleam of hope in her eye. She had the woman in her grasp.

"Why would you do that? Why would you disobey your master for Christine?" Matilda asked.

Azira stifled laughter when she heard these words. Her master? Oh, you stupid little noble bitch, you don't know what you're talking about!

"Henry is a onetime patron at best. A vapid, spoiled idiot with delusions of grandeur. I get a little gold from him and a lot of fun and it's the latter that matters most to me. However, your daughter has the potential to be a lot more fun."

Matilda sat up and bunched her hands into fists. In her feeble state, this was the largest act of defiance she could manage.

"Don't you dare do anything to my daughter!" Matilda cried.

"I already told you. Not only will I leave her untouched, I will protect her from Henry's advances."

"Then what do you want with her?"

Well, that was the key question, wasn't it? What did sweet Christine have to offer?

"Your daughter is a very smart girl, Matilda. Smarter than you realize. And her head is filled with strange and interesting ideas from all that reading she does. I want to see how she develops. You and I really want the same thing. We want to see Christine develop to her full potential. She can't do that if she's just some used womb for a royal son. You have to believe me on this count. I will do nothing to Christine - if you drink."

Azira held up the vial and swished around the black liquid within. The demonic essence of the fluid hovered like a cloud around the glass container. It would soon become too dangerous for even Azira to handle.

"You're lying to me," Matilda said. "Why would you uphold this bargain? I can't trust you."

For the love of everything unholy, Azira thought. There was being strong willed and then there was being pig headed.

"Fine. I'll uncork this thing, douse you in half of it, save the second half for Christine and be on my way. Either way, my mission is accomplished. I don't have to make this deal. I could easily your hand. Don't betray my kindness," the sorceress said.

Matilda Gerard stared at the vial and swallowed hard. Azira could see that she had finally broken through the noblewoman's icy exterior. The cogs were turning in Matilda Gerard's head, but would they turn enough?

"Fine. I'll drink," Matilda said. "I'll give up my life for my daughter's and if you go back on our deal, I will find a way to drag you to hell."

"Deal," the sorceress answered cheerfully, handing the vial to the noblewoman.

Matilda Gerard uncorked the vial and recoiled as vapors from the unholy liquid billowed into her face. Azira could see that the woman's hands were trembling, but she couldn't tell if this was due to fear or illness. In the end, it didn't matter. The noblewoman had made her choice and Azira could see that she would follow through.

"God forgive me," Matilda muttered.

Then she drank, starting with a small sip full of trepidation. Then she took a bigger sip. She moaned pleasantly as if surprised by the taste of the fluid. Before long, the noblewoman upturned the vial and began to gulp the fluid, seemingly forgetting her fear. Azira watched with rapt attention the noblewoman lost control, trails of black fluid snaking down her pale chin.

Matilda Gerard finished off the bottle with a loud, sensual groan. Already, the fluid's effects were presenting themselves. The noblewoman's pale flesh became striated with black veins that pumped corruption deeper into her body. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, causing her bosom to rise and fall and swell against her nightgown. Those breasts that had once been lovely and nubile had been diminished by years of illness. Now, they seemed to become revitalized. With each manic breath the noblewoman took, they seemed to grow firmer and fuller. Before long, those lovely swells had exceeded their former glory, growing bigger by the second.

"Oh God, I didn't think it would feel so good!" Matilda cried.

"That's always how it is with damnation," the sorceress answered.

The changes in the noblewoman accelerated. Her disease-stricken body revitalized, growing stronger and more supple. The woman's already pale skin turned to an alabaster color, making her look like a marble statue. Her body filled out unnaturally, her tits growing so big they threatened to rip open her nightgown. Her ass bulged into the lovely shape of a ripe peach.

Matilda moaned and babbled as she slowly went insane. She closed her eyes as another wave of transformation rolled over her body, turning her brown hair silvery white and sharpening her teeth into fangs. When she opened her eyes again, they burned like hot coals.

Azira slipped onto the bed, taking care to prepare a few protection spells now that the illness-stricken noblewoman wasn't so harmless. Still, she figured she deserved a little playtime for doing her part. She positioned herself behind Matilda Gerard, raising her hands to encompass the woman's enormous breasts. They had a supple, inhuman perfection to them that was to die for.

"What did you do to me and why does it feel so good?" Matilda whimpered.

"You're in transition," Azira answered. "You need to feed."

"I don't understand."

"You will if you listen to your body."

Matilda Gerard looked down at her hand and saw razor sharp black claws where her fingernails had been. Azira watched as the woman got a feeling for her new strength. She kept the protections spells close at hand.

"If you go against our deal, I will rip your heart out," Matilda said.

"Look, Matilda Gerard. I'm an evil bitch, but I don't go back on my promises. Now feed, before you go insane."

For the first time in years, Matilda Gerard stepped off her bed unassisted. She moved with the feral grace of a wild cat. Looking back, she gave Azira a sharp look and held up her clawed hand.

"Just remember," the corrupted noblewoman said.

Azira smiled pleasantly at the woman. She wouldn't do a damn thing to Christine Gerard. If Christine Gerard happened to get herself in trouble, that was a different story.

"I'll remember," the sorceress said.

***

Christine Gerard awoke with a start. Something was wrong.

Who was she kidding? Everything was wrong. It had been like that for as long as she could remember. Still, the danger of the castle seemed closer now. It pressed in on her like the spiked walls of an ungodly device.

Christine got up out of bed and walked over to her desk. On it were several books, all of which she had read before. There was very little reading material in the castle that Christine hadn't devoured in all of her lonely years. However, this time she noticed a new book.

Its cover was as black as midnight and composed of a material Christine could not nail down. It was soft like velvet, but it had an almost fleshy quality that reminded her of leather.

Where had this thing come from, she wondered. Had it always been here and she just hadn't noticed it in her collection? That seemed ridiculous. Christine loved and cherished her books. Each one felt like a beloved friend.

Perhaps her father delivered this newcomer. That happened sometimes. Books were rare, but the Gerard family had friends and money, so it wasn't too difficult find new tomes. Still, this book seemed to radiate strangeness and Christine could not imagine her father obtaining it - especially not in a time like this.

"You're a puzzler, aren't you?" Christine asked.

She picked up the book, lit her desk lamp, and began to read. She wouldn't stop reading until the sun was up.